He Gave Her My Eyes A Story of Final Sight novel Chapter 33

Susan stood there, shaking, her eyes fixed on the floor. “Theresia still hasn’t come back. I tried calling her, but her number’s not working anymore. It just says it’s no longer in service.”

No longer in service?

Lawrence’s brow tightened, the tension in the room dropping like a heavy blanket. Without a word, he tore upstairs.

He pushed open the master bedroom door. The room was empty. That familiar warmth was gone, replaced by a cold, hollow stillness that pressed on his chest, making it hard to breathe.

He slipped into the walk-in closet. All those dresses lined up, perfectly untouched, every color and style still there. Relief rushed through him. Maybe she was just mad. Maybe she wanted him to come find her, to coax her back.

Lawrence let out a shaky breath. He almost turned to leave, but something caught his attention. The clothes she brought with her when they got married—those weren’t here. Only the ones he had bought her were left.

A sudden chill ran down his spine. He hurried out of the closet. The photo of the two of them that always sat on the nightstand was gone. Her jewelry box was still there, every piece untouched.

His eyes drifted to the trash can. Inside, he saw torn-up pages and the battered cover of a sketchbook. He reached in and pulled it out.

Page after page had been ripped apart, but even in pieces, he could tell who she’d drawn. Every page was him—different moments, different expressions, all so real, so alive. She had poured her heart into these sketches.

Lawrence stared at the torn drawings, his emotions swirling. For three years, Theresia had made this house a home. She loved tending to her flowers, soaking up the sunlight, enjoying the simple things. She never complained, never played the victim. Even without her sight, she was always gentle and warm—a quiet light in his life.

He had gotten so used to her being there. It never crossed his mind that she might leave.

Divorce papers. Theresia had filed for divorce.

He stared at the document, numb. Then he noticed another file—hospital records. His hands shook as he picked up a glass jar from the center of the table.

Inside was a small, bloody mass. If he looked closer, he could almost see the shape of tiny limbs.

Lawrence’s whole body went cold. A sharp pain stabbed through his chest. His throat felt tight, like he couldn’t breathe. His hands trembled as he whispered, “No… this can’t be real… I don’t believe it… no…”

His eyes were red, his whole body shaking. He stumbled back, his voice barely more than a terrified whisper. “The baby? No… you’re lying to me. You have to be…”